


Life, After Survival

by Twig



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: 5 Things, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twig/pseuds/Twig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people Ethan Hunt has lost, and one he intends to hold onto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life, After Survival

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for all four movies.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you face imminent death. 

Ethan's never believed that. 

*

He met Claire when he was still young enough to believe in love at first sight. 

She sat by herself outside a Parisian cafe with her long brown hair in a ponytail and a blue silk scarf around her neck. There was something shy about her demeanor, quiet and unassuming. A book laid open before her on the rickety plastic table next to a half-empty cup of espresso, but her eyes, her big blue eyes, were out in the crowd, people-watching. 

Jim had told him that she was a newly minted agent out on her first mission, nothing more than a milk run, just static surveillance, and therefore totally ripe for a mild prank, an initiation rite of sorts. It seemed silly, ridiculous, but Ethan was persuaded by the mischievous glimmer in Jim's eyes. 

He struck up a conversation with Claire, watching as she struggled with maintaining her position and cover while engaging him in meaningless chitchat. No, struggled wasn't the right word; that wasn't fair. Claire did an admirable job, caught offguard perhaps at first, but recovered quickly and intelligently. For a rookie, she did great. 

Fantastic actually: shy and demure in manner, but resolute in her opinions. He wasn't sure if this were a great piece of acting or maybe she was drawing upon herself. The latter, Ethan finally decided. The cast of her gaze and the line of her mouth seemed so real. Maybe later, after he apologized for all this, he could talk to her for real. 

Ethan had forgotten all about the prank until Jim appeared, startling the both of them with a hearty laugh. 

"Ethan, I'd like you to meet Claire, my fiancee." 

Ethan's heart seized inside his chest for a fraction of a second, then he was laughing along with Jim. The joke was on the two of them. Jim had asked Ethan to play a prank, but he'd told Claire that Ethan was her mark. 

"I thought what better way to introduce you two to each other!" 

Ethan looked at Claire, who smiled awkwardly at him, half-apologetic, but 100% alluring still. He just as awkwardly smiled back at her, then congratulated Jim on his engagement. 

*

Jim had been the one to tell him that there was no certainty in this life. 

The burn of betrayal was almost like a physical ailment, like patches of flesh seared from his chest, but if he just ignored it, maybe it'd go away. Ethan had always been one to look forward and not backward. 

And if he didn't prod it, it was true. Years could be swept under the rug. IMF agents functioned on denial and adrenaline. Ethan simply didn't think about it. 

The warm pride in Jim's voice when he declared Ethan to be the finest agent he had ever trained. The steady hand of support on his shoulder as Ethan watched his father waste away into a frail shell of his former self. The solid, unwavering pillar of leadership, the man who could always be depended upon in a crisis. 

Nothing but a ghost now. Nothing but an ache. 

* 

"There's no certainty in this line of work, Lindsey. The only thing you can depend on is yourself." 

"And you, right, Ethan?" 

His smile was kind; perhaps he had been too kind. "Not even me. I'm not going to be in the field with you. I won't even be in the van." 

"But you'll be with me. Everything you've taught me, everything you've given me... that'll always be with me." 

Her trueness of spirit was almost too much to bear. And Ethan thought, for just a moment: this has all been a mistake. Lindsey could nail a bullseye with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back. She knew tactic and strategy and thought so fast on her feet that it'd make one's head spin. She was, in one short word, brilliant. But you had to be a little bit of a bastard to survive. Lindsey was just too... * _good_ *. 

Lindsey reminded Ethan of himself many years and a lot more mileage ago. Her face was a mirror into a simpler time, and all he could see was a kid who believed, who trusted. 

Ethan shook the ghosts off. 

Lindsey had what it took, just like he did. She'd survive. 

* 

He woke one morning and she was simply gone. Ethan had no illusion that it'd last, and being left with the lingering scent of her perfume on the pillow was exactly how he knew it'd end. He didn't regret the time they spent together, and he wouldn't change it for the world. 

Still, there was a sense of absence. She was, after all, the best thief in the world. He should've known that she'd walk away with a piece of his heart. 

* 

The Seattle Times - Classifieds

Dear Bo, The weather has cleared, but the ground is still wet. I suppose it's a good time to start my gardening. There was a sale at Home Depot, and I've got all the soil I need. I'd ask you for some seeds, but I don't suppose you have any free time. It's okay though. Remember the sunflowers we grew last summer? I still have the pictures. Love, Hope 

 

Dear Hope, I will always have time for you. I might not be able to help you plant your seeds, but any tool you need, all you have to do is ask. I remember our sunflowers. They were the best we ever grew. Yours always, Bo 

 

Dear Bo, I have found a new gardening partner. He knows his flowers. I hope you won't be sad. I know you'd mow my lawn and prune my hedges if you could, but it's not to be. But if you could, I'd love for you to stop by some time. We can't grow sunflowers anymore, but I will always hold them in my heart. Love always, Hope 

 

Dearest Hope, I'm happy that you've found a new gardening partner. I only hope that the flowers he grows will put a smile on your face. I have a business trip, so I will be busy for some time. I'll drop by when I can. Love always, Bo 

 

Ethan wasn't sure if it was a comfort or a sting that Julia's new man looked nothing like him. In the end, he decided on comfort, because it was a sign that she had truly moved on, though he never had any doubt that she could. Julia was resilient; that had been one of the many things he'd loved about her. 

This separation was the right decision. She needed a stability in her life that he could never provide her. It wasn't fair to either of them. Love, Ethan knew by now, could not truly conquer all. 

Duty had no sweethearts. 

* 

The kiss from Brandt, when it finally came, was an expected surprise. Ethan allowed himself a moment to enjoy it, even if it weren't the sort of kiss to be savored. Too rough, too needful, borne out of a desperate moment. 

"Tell me you feel this, Ethan," Brandt whispered against his mouth. His want was electric, and Ethan was a conduit. Though he intended to resist, Ethan surged into the second kiss, helpless. Sometimes Brandt looked at him as though Ethan could cut him down to the core. Ethan didn't think Brandt knew that he had the same power over him. This kiss was like a knife, one wielded without precision. And when Ethan pried himself away, it felt just like a knife leaving his chest. 

"This is a bad idea. I know it, and you know it, too, Will." 

Brandt was breathing hard, flushed and flustered. He seemed ready to say something rash, but the analyst in him gave him pause. He looked at Ethan far too clearly for Ethan's liking. 

"I never figure you to be afraid." 

And that was the last thing Ethan expected him to say. "This isn't about fear." 

Something in his voice, in his expression must have given him away. There was a look of revelation in Brandt's face. 

"I'm not like..." But Brandt had the kindness not to finish that sentence. No matter how that line ended, it would've ended badly. He licked his lips as if to clear those words, then started again. "We all make the choices we have to to survive, but there's life after surviving." Brandt hesitated, but then he spilled anyway. "I figure if anybody knows that, really * _gets_ * that, it'd be you." 

Irritation flared in Ethan. "I'm a hell of a lot more than what's in a file." 

"So don't assume I know you?" Brandt offered a threadbare smile. "Everything I need to know about you, I never had to learn from a file." 

Ethan closed his eyes when Brandt leaned in close once more. Steadier this time, not the electricity of coiled desire. The touch Brandt gave, a simple rest of his palm to Ethan's cheek, was made of certainty. 

"I * _know_ * you feel this, and I know you'll make the right decision. You always do." 

Ethan didn't dare to open his eyes until Brandt was well and truly gone. 

* 

Waking up sucks. Especially after falling down three flights of stairs in quick succession. Oh, and getting * _shot_ *. 

His eyes are gummed; it takes a few tries before he can open them properly. His arm responds sluggishly when he tells it to move. Wiping his eyes is more like smacking himself in the face. With a sigh, he gives up. Judging from the fuzz he's accumulated, he's been out at least a week. When he lost consciousness at the bottom of the stairs, Ethan thought there was a significant possibility that he wasn't going to wake up again, so all this is quite the improvement. 

It takes him about fifteen seconds to realize he's not alone. Blearily, Ethan makes out Brandt's figure by his bedside. Brandt's fallen asleep in a chair, his head cradled in his arms on the bed, face turned away. The sight doesn't hurt; only aches, just a little. 

Ethan, as a rule, is not prone to self-reflection, but almost dying will make any man contemplative. If he closes his eyes, he can see the faces of all the people who've left him and those he's left behind. The ones who are dead, the ones who might as well be dead. People come and go, live and die. He loves, he hates, he tries, he fails. The only thing that seems to remain a constant is the mission. Always the mission. 

If there's one thing in the world Ethan Hunt will never be, that's resigned. He never gives up. But maybe he has, just a little bit. 

Not as gently as he'd like, Ethan rests his hand on Brandt's head. What was intended to be a light pet ends up waking Brandt, who has only a moment of disorientation before he sucks in a sharp breath and then he's completely awake. 

"Ethan." There's such naked relief on Brandt's face. Ethan has to smile. There's so much he wants to say, but getting shot and then having a this-is-your-life montage while comatose for a week really takes it out of you. 

He settles for a weak touch to Brandt's face and whispers, "Life, after survival." That conversation is still vivid in Ethan's mind, but Brandt looks so confused. Just when Ethan thinks Brandt won't ever make the connection, Brandt smiles. His face lights up, and that... that's worth it, Ethan thinks. Like Julia's smile was worth it. Every person he's loved and lost has been worth it. 

Brandt looks at him, and very deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he leans into Ethan's touch and kisses his palm. 

"Guess you needed to be shot to come to your senses, huh?" 

"Never easy... with me." 

Brandt exhales in a faint laugh. "Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly." 

Ethan hums his reply as he closes his eyes, and Brandt tells him to rest. Yeah, he'll take that advice. 

There's no certainty in this life, but there's certainty in the here and now, in the firm grip of Brandt's hand over his own. Ethan holds onto that.

**Author's Note:**

> End Note: The line "duty has no sweethearts" is cribbed from The Living Daylights (Bond movie with Timothy Dalton). Also, I struggled really hard to come up with a title and I was thisclose to going with "Ethan Hunt: Look At Your Life, Look At Your Choices" which I think is fairly accurate, but the lack of a sassy gay friend (plus actual humorous content in the fic itself) kept me from doing so. Though I guess Will kind of counts. :D


End file.
